The rain was violent. It beats on the ground with a heavy force like a sacrificial drum demanding blood at the altar for it to be appeased. But Anadil knew that it wasn't a metaphor, because tonight blood was about to be spilled, and she will be there to watch.
She can feel each droplet hammer on her head, even with her thick leather hood on. The chilling cold of the midnight weather was beginning to seep through her clothes and bite on her skin; her fingers were starting to lock as frozen air hurts her throat, but she wasn't about to give this one up. She's been hunting the trent for far too long, and now she has the chance she has been waiting for. Scruff galloped faster than a horse, skillfully dodging the large trees and rocks that dotted the path they were in while Scrawn and Blot followed closely behind. It was a special hunting night, and Anadil had turned three of her rats into something twice the size of a cave bear. They will need the size for the coming battle.
"Stop!" She commanded Scruff and the giant rat skidded into a halt. As carefully, but quickly, as she can, she walked up against her rat's neck and planted her feet firmly at the top of his head. "Raise me up," She said, and the rat stood on his hind legs, carefully balancing his master.
Anadil closed her eyes and sniffed the air. She deftly pushed back the thick scent of pine, muck and rotting wood aside to find something faint but awfully familiar. It was coming from the east, a musky irony scent that seemed to collect at the back of her nose before falling heavily in her lungs. In fact, she didn't need to concentrate for a long time to see notice the iconic scent. The air was almost full of it, which signified something was wrong.
"We need to hurry," She said, almost to herself as she jumped from the head of the giant rat and landing seated at the based of the rat's neck. Scruff gave a roar before he started running again, with his brothers close behind, following the scent that filled the night air.
It didn't take long, and Anadil knew that they were close. But as she had thought, something was wrong. She can hear the beast roaring in pure curdling rage. Someone else had found it. She didn't like competition, and quite possibly, she will have to kill the intruder. Maybe it was the chance that she had been praying for.
The beast and the thieves were in a clearing, and Anadil jumped off her rat, pointing at the places where Scrawn and Blot could lie and hide and wait for the attack. Still hidden in the tree lines, she unbuckled a spear tipped with the blade of a Camelot straight dagger, wrapped and bound with a black-tipped thorny vine. No matter what happened, she will get the heart of the beast. Breathing deeply, she tried to prepare herself, calming the small shivers that her knees and hands made. She pushed a stray branch aside, to see and assess the situation, hopefully, she can find a flaw in the thieves' formation so she and her rats can bring all of them down without much trouble. But there wasn't any thieving witch or alchemists in the scene, but there was only a man, fending the beast off by himself. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make out any sigil marking the man, but there was nothing on his leather armor. That man just got her curiosity and interest. How could he have survived that long alone?
The trent roared with something that sounded like the mixture of the squeal of dying pig and a ferocious lion, drumming its chest to show dominance, but the man only responded with a draw of his single-headed battle ax from his back. The beast eyed the weapon that started to glow a cobalt blue light. It drummed on its massive chest once more, with its core glowing a magnificent red that shone on every crevice of its twisting wood-like frame, then it charged.
The man didn't take a second to delay and he threw his ax with both hands before jumping out the way, missing its target. Pathetic, Anadil sneered. The beast skidded across the muddy ground as it tried to keep its eye on its prey. Once locked on it began to charge again. But just as it did, the ax's head buried itself deep in the trent's right set of eyes. The beast squealed in pain as it tried to pull the ax off. The man now took the opportunity and charged at the beast, holding his glowing palm in the air and the ax followed, pulling the beast's head to the ground. He jumped and boarded the trent's head before he pulled the ax out of the monster's eyes.
It screamed so loud that the very earth Anadil stood on shook, but she had an unwanted smile on her face because she found the whole act fascinating. But she held her spear tightly in her hand and she was ready to throw it at him at the right moment. But for the mean time, she just watched.
The man jeered at the downed beast, muttering something that Anadil couldn't and didn't want to hear. She was sure that this man will die. He was cocky and arrogant. She has seen it before. As his small speech had finally ended, the man raised his ax and it glowed brighter as it came crashing down the trent's head, delivering the final blow. But it never landed. The beast shook him off like a dog would with a flea, only this flea was slower and dumber. He landed on his back and the beast threw his ax away. The man ran for his life, while he held his hand in the air, waiting for his weapon to land on his hand, but for the second time that evening, the ax failed. The trent swatted the man like a bug with its massive fist sending him flying into a nearby tree. He hit hard, and Anadil heard his bones break before his limp body rolled down to the wet ground. But he was still alive. He tried to crawl away, leaving a trail of blood saturating in the mud. The trent stood behind him, its hulking body heaving heavily, eyes wounded but otherwise victorious. It breathed in then it roared at the dying man while is stomped its fist in the ground.
Now was her chance. It was blinded and in pain. She wolf-whistled and the rats charged in with Scruff leading the attack. The trent was stunned, as its enemies came from three sides. It tried to defend itself but it was no use. The rats had iron-like claws and razor sharp fangs and they tore at the beast without much of a fight bringing it to the ground. Once the rats have secured the bleeding beast, Anadil came out of her hiding place, spear in hand. She wasted no time. She drove the blade deep into the beast's head, hearing its last whimper before she twisted the spear and it died.
"Alright," she puffed, pulling the spear out of the corpse of the monster. "Do your job."
The rats turned the monster on its back and started digging into its chest, breaking away the twisting trunks and vines that sheltered its heart. Anadil was finally happy, feeling that the weight of all the waiting, misfortunes and failures were not wasted at all. For the first time, she felt herself breathe and she was finally relaxed.
But Aya squeaked from the pocket of her jacket, and the head of a small white rat peeped out, sniffing the air. "Too late, girl. You missed out on all the fun." She pets her rat's head with her finger, but it didn't seem to be interested with the trent.
Aya jumped out of the pocket and shuffled carefully towards the man.
"Leave him, Aya," Anadil commanded, but Aya wasn't one to listen to her.
The rat shuffled closer and closer and eventually, she reached the man's face and sniffed it before it squeaked at Anadil.
"What?" She raised a brow at her rat with her arms crossed on her chest. "Of course he's dying. He's an idiot."
Aya squeaked in reply.
"Do you have any idea how much trouble that would be? Especially for me? No! You're a rat. You don't know anything."
The white rat berated her master with a succession of angry chattering. It was so loud that it even distracted her brothers from working.
"I will not waste my potions on that man, Aya. He's dying. He won't make it… Of course, I'm sure! Look at him! You're standing right in front of him… No. You cannot tell me what to do! I won't help him even if you tell everything to Corrine. The both of you can go suck on a lemon!"
Anadil eyed the rat and Ada eye here master. Neither moved nor budged, and the three older rats exchanged glances, feeling the tension growing.
"Scruff!" her brow twitched. "Pick the poor sap up and take it home."
The large black rat looked at her confused, sniffing in the air as if the answer was there. He gave a tiny squeak that didn't fit at all to its massive size.
"No, not your sister! That damn fool dying on the ground!"
Scruff just stared.
"NO! It's not a sarcasm! Go pick it up!"
The rat quickly left the trent's corpse and rushed to pick the man as gently as it could before starting to make its way back home, but not before picking up its discolored sister along with him.
Needless to say, Anadil lost to a rat.
She tapped her finger angrily on her arm as she watched her minions make their way home, not because she took orders from a rat, but because she just gave up another opportunity to redeem herself.